


Can't go on without you

by Vault_Emblem



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gen, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Self-Hatred, Unrequited Love, but is it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_Emblem/pseuds/Vault_Emblem
Summary: He doesn’t notice the mage casting a spell until it’s too late, until there’s a flash of thunder going his way.He instinctively covers himself with an arm – knowing full well that it won’t help – but he notices to late that the spell wasn’t directed at him, but towards…
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	Can't go on without you

**Author's Note:**

> It took me sooooo long to write this, but I'm very happy with how it turned out. I hope you guys enjoy it too!
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr [@bi-naesala](https://bi-naesala.tumblr.com) and on twitter [@vault_emblem](https://twitter.com/vault_emblem)

New battles, new bruises, new victories, new hopes.

Sylvain’s used to this routine by now, even though he’s getting more tired by the day. Thinking about the end of the war, when they’ve been engulfed in it for so long, is scary, but now more than ever it feels most alluring. Their work won’t be done only because they win, but Sylvain will be more than happy to abandon the lance forever and resort to diplomacy.

He shakes his head, getting back to preparing his horse. He shouldn’t daydream like this so close to the beginning of the battle. He needs to focus, or else he won’t come out of it alive.

\- Hey -.

He turns his heard towards the source of that noise. Here’s Felix, standing behind him.

He looks angry, well, more than usual he supposes; by now, Felix being angry has become common routine. Honestly, he’d be more surprised if Felix _wasn’t_ mad about something.

\- Hi -, Sylvain greets him, trying to appear as cheerful and carefree as ever. He doesn’t want to be the cause of distraction to Felix of all people; he’d just make his job of keeping him from harm harder if he’s distracted during battle.

\- We’re going to march soon, be ready -, is all the swordsman tells him, before stomping off probably to warn somebody else.

He’s on edge, that’s for sure. In the end, the effects of pushing himself too hard are catching up to him. This means Sylvain will have to be extra careful from now on: nothing must touch him. _Nothing_.

They’re all in position and ready to move out. Out of the corner of his eye, Sylvain spots Felix. By now the professor has understood that, no matter where they put the two of them, they’ll always end up fighting together, so might as well position them close to each other from the start, even if that could be considered an unconventional tactic; after all, the professor could be described as anything _but_ conventional, but it worked so far, didn’t it? It’ll work again.

\- I won’t clean up your messes -, Felix warns him, but Sylvain knows him well and he understands what he really means: don’t get yourself hurt.

\- I’ll be careful -, he says, and Felix rolls his eyes.

\- You never are -.

That… is not false: Sylvain is known to be quite reckless in battle, but he could say that Felix is the same. In his constant looking for a challenge, he puts himself in many dangerous situations, and what can Sylvain do if not step in when he’s about to get hurt?

He knows Felix resents him for this, but it’s for the best. As long as he’s fine, it doesn’t matter if he hates him.

… That’s a lie. Of course it matters if Felix hates him, but he’d rather have his hate than risking his life.

He knows that what he’s doing is selfish, that he should know that Felix wouldn’t take his death – or any death for the matter – well, but in his heart he knows he cannot stop doing this.

If he truly is incapable of honesty, if he truly is incapable of confessing how he feels about him, this is the least he can do.

It’s selfish, but he _is_ a selfish person.

And then… it happens.

They’re fight back to back, as they often do, but no matter how many people they kill, there seems to be no end to their enemies today. They’re both getting tired, especially Sylvain; maybe he should’ve trained more, as Felix seems to have less problems, being used to be under constant pressure, but Sylvain is also wearing his armor, and that definitely weights more than Felix’s myrmidon getup.

Things only get worse when his horse gets it, and Sylvain’s only choice is to dismount, knowing that poor Prudence won’t survive the battle – sorry Prudence.

Where the hell is Dimitri? It would certainly be great to have him there, pulverizing all these soldiers as he and Felix catch their breaths. Of course, things are never this easy in battle and they’ll have to make do with what they have, doing their best to hold on until they get reinforcements.

Sylvain, however, has an idea.

\- Felix, how you holding up? -.

\- What do you think?! -, comes the angry reply, followed by the scream of a, definitely now dead, soldier, - There’s no end to them! -.

Sylvain dodges a sword, stabbing the aggressor’s face with his lance. By now, he doesn’t even react to blood anymore.

\- I’d say let’s fall back and regroup with the others! -, he shouts then, - There’s no point in staying here! -.

\- You want to run away?! -.

And he’s done it: he’s managed to make Felix angrier.

\- Even you can see this is pointless! -, he insists, hoping that it would be enough to convince him. Even he must agree with him, mustn’t he?

\- Reinforces will come! -.

Damn it, Felix! Why must you always be like this?

What else can Sylvain do, if not staying there as well? If he leaves Felix alone, no matter how strong he is, there are no chances of surviving this. At least in two they might get lucky.

Desperation will make them stronger.

He doesn’t notice the mage casting a spell until it’s too late, until there’s a flash of thunder going his way.

He instinctively covers himself with an arm – knowing full well that it won’t help – but he notices to late that the spell wasn’t directed at him, but towards…

He ears Felix’s scream as soon as he makes the realization, and when he turns towards where he was standing, he finds him on the ground, in a puddle of blood.

Immediately he rushes to his side, cutting everyone who stands in his way, shouting Felix’s name, as if the other is going to turn towards him and angrily snap at him for being so loud – he’d welcome that.

It’s all his fault. They should’ve pulled away way before now. It’s all his fault. He should’ve been more convincing. It’s all his fault. He failed to do the _one_ thing he was so set on doing.

Felix’s dead and it’s all his fault.

All he can do now is cradle that body in his arms, putting himself in the way of the enemies.

If they want to strike Felix, they’ll have to go through him first.

At least they’ll die together.

He braces himself. He’s ready to die.

The impact never comes.

When Sylvain manages to gather enough courage to look up, he sees a familiar face between them and their enemies.

\- Professor! -, he calls out, desperation evident in his voice. He never sounded so distressed as now.

\- Sylvain! -.

That’s Mercedes voice. A miracle.

She’s immediately onto Felix, inspecting his situation. She’d have a way easier time if Sylvain wouldn’t still be clinging to him.

\- Sylvain, I need… -.

\- _Please Mercie, please_ -, Sylvain pleads, and he doesn’t even notice that he’s crying, - _Please, please, please, please_ -.

He can’t lose him. He’ll die if Felix dies.

He can’t…

The rest is all a blur to him.

He remembers crying his heart out and not wanting to let Felix go. He remembers both His Highness and Dedue’s arms on him; it took their collective effort to manage to separate him from Felix, but Sylvain didn’t go out without a fight and he began to kick and scream that they _had_ to let him go, that he _had_ to be there with him. They couldn’t take him away like this, it wasn’t _fair_.

He tried so hard to set himself free, but he was only met with blackness. The only way they could get him to not interfere with the healing process, as horrible as it sounds, was to knock him out.

When Sylvain comes to, one of the first things he feels are fists on his chest, which make him lose all the air in his lungs with an _oof_.

\- Sylvain, you idiot! -.

Ouch, what is that for?

When he opens his eyes again, he sees Ingrid in front of him. She looks like she was crying.

\- How dare you scare us like that? What did you think you were going to accomplish?! -.

She really is mad, madder than ever before… but he supposes she has the rights to be. He gave her a scare, didn’t he?

Speaking of which….

_Felix._

He jolts up in the bed, reaching for Ingrid with feverish strength.

\- Felix… Where’s Felix? -.

If he didn’t make it, he… he doesn’t know what he’d do, but he certainly would be _devastated_. He failed to protect if, and if he let him die before he could even tell him about his feelings for him…

Ingrid’s gaze softens at the pitiful display in front of her, but her words are reassuring:

\- He’s… stable. More or less -.

_He didn’t die_.

Sylvain releases the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, and his body feels like jelly. Felix is safe, not completely alright, but safe nonetheless.

At least he managed to do something good, though how much of this is thanks to him he doesn’t know, nor is he thinking about it. He’s just so relieved that everything’s fine, that he didn’t lose Felix.

He tries to get up – he has to see him – but he’s stopped by Ingrid.

\- Where do you think you’re going? -, she says, in that tone of hers that means she won’t accept any kind of complaint. But Sylvain has to go.

\- Ingrid, please -.

He hopes that maybe he can use her pity against her, that she’ll let him go, but she’s too firm for this and she forces him to lay down again. Normally it would take him nothing to overpower her, but he’s still weak from the fight. Actually, the effort even makes him feel a bit dizzy.

\- Sylvain. _He’s fine_ , I promise -.

\- But… -.

\- No buts. You need to rest -.

She’s right, of course she is, but the most irrational part of Sylvain’s brain is still pushing him to leave, to go find Felix.

… Where is he, by the way?

He looks around, and he realizes that they are in his dorm, back at Garreg Mach.

\- Ingrid… what happened? -.

\- You don’t remember? -.

Sylvain shakes his head; what he remembers is too little to piece everything together. He does remember the dreadful sensation of panic and fear that didn’t seem to want to leave him, that’s all.

\- Well -, Ingrid begins with a sigh, going to Sylvain’s desk to grab a chair and dragging it closer to the bed. Oh, it’s going to be a long ride.

\- We got separated, but I think you remember that, don’t you? -.

Sylvain nods. Yes, he recalls that; it’s what happened next that he doesn’t remember.

\- Well, you got isolated and we were trying so hard to cut a path to reach you, but there were so many of them… -, Ingrid recalls, her minds towards those moments. She’s been so scared that she was going to lose them… but she needs to hold strong. It’s all in the past and she shouldn’t linger in it.

\- When it finally seemed that we have made a breach, Felix got hit. I watched him go down, but you were immediately over him. I went back to fight immediately to secure that at least they wouldn’t get to you -.

She gets pensive.

\- I don’t know how they did it, but in a moment the professor had managed to get to you before you could sustain any other injury. When we got there too… -, she has to pause, recalling the sight, - When we got to you we could see almost only red. You were clinging on Felix like a madman and you were screaming and crying and Felix… Felix looked like… -.

\- Like he died -, Sylvain finishes for her.

\- Yes -, Ingrid nods.

Silence falls heavy between them as they both close themselves in their own minds, dealing with their own thoughts.

Then Ingrid speaks again, her voice slightly trembling:

\- Did you mean it? What you said back there? -.

\- What did I say? -, Sylvain asks, perplexed. He remembers shouting, but he doesn’t remember what exactly. It’s probably nothing too incriminating, right?

\- You said you loved him -.

Or maybe it is.

Sylvain chuckles, but his nervousness is obvious.

\- Did I really say that? -.

\- Yes, you did -.

Sylvain falls silent, looking down at his hands. They’re trembling.

He supposes it’s not that farfetched that he’d say something like that out loud, given the situation. Did he really admit to everyone his love for Felix? Apparently he did.

This is only going to complicate things, he’s sure of it, and yet… he also feels strangely lighter than before. It’s been hard burying his feelings down, but after all if there’s something Sylvain is really good at it’s exactly that, even though with the war advancing it was making him more and more tired.

Now everyone knows, everyone with the exception of Felix of course. Ugh, Sylvain can already picture the pitiful stares he’s going to get and he’s not ready for that, and more than anything he’s not ready for people coming to encourage him to go for it; he never knows how to handle people being kind to him – it’s not something he grew used to. How many times he’ll have to say “thank you but I’m good”? How many times he’ll have to play the “it’s not a big deal” card? How many times he’ll have to resort to his fake smile? How many times before he cracks?

Eventually he sighs.

\- Yes. It’s all true -.

There, he said it. No more games for Sylvain. No more denial.

He hates the way Ingrid is looking at him now, however, like she’s pitying him.

\- Why didn’t you say anything? -.

\- Because… -.

_Because he’s too much of a coward to say it to his face_.

When Ingrid touches his shoulder, she’s being weirdly gentle. Sylvain doesn’t remember such softness lately.

\- You should tell him -.

\- And for what? So that he won’t talk to me anymore? -, Sylvain replies. It’s cute of Ingrid to believe that this could end up well, when actually this is only the recipe for a disaster.

He can handle longing for Felix from afar, he can handle being close to him but not as close as he wants to, but he won’t be able to handle it if he loses this, and he knows that if he tells Felix he won’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.

\- Felix wouldn’t do that -, Ingrid reassures him, but how much of her words does she really mean?

She seems to notice his uncertainties, and she continues:

\- If he really hated you, he would’ve stopped talking to you a long time ago -.

She’s right of course, deep down within himself Sylvain knows it. Felix has never been the kind of person who hides his true feelings towards someone: if he doesn’t like you, he’ll make sure you know it.

It should say a lot that they’re still friends despite Sylvain’s antics, but he still can’t shake the feeling that he’d want nothing to do with a good for nothing like him if things were different.

… But things aren’t different, aren’t they? Shouldn’t he focus of reality and not on dumb what ifs?

\- Ingrid… can I see him? -.

He hears his friend sigh, but he can’t help it. He needs to see him.

Maybe… maybe he’ll find the answer he’s looking for this way. Maybe things will be finally clear and he’ll know what to do.

He can’t deny how shaken he was when he saw Felix fall. What if he died then? He’d be left with a broken heart and things unsaid.

He does feel a push to finally scream his feelings out in the wind, at least now that some people do know of them. In war anything can happen, and it won’t be long until either he or Felix lose their lives. Does he really want to keep everything by himself?

If he sees Felix now, he might finally decide what to do: if he won’t have the strength to admit everything even now, then he won’t try again, but if he feels that push again… he might go for it. It would leave him vulnerable, more vulnerable than he’d ever been, with no chances to dissimulate or underplay his feelings, but maybe Felix won’t be too cruel with his heart; maybe he won’t completely destroy it.

He’s surprised when he feels Ingrid’s arms around his armpits, pulling him up.

\- W-what? -.

\- You said you wanted to see him, right? I’m taking you there -.

A smile appears on Sylvain’s lips as he mutters a soft “thank you”. He knew he was eventually going to get her.

\- If Manuela kills you I won’t do anything about it -, is all she says, but nonetheless Sylvain is grateful, very grateful.

Once they finally get to the infirmary, Sylvain understands why he’s been laid in his room: it’s packed.

He can see out of the corner of his eye His Highness attempting to attend to Dedue – he must’ve gotten hurt during the fight. Even Manuela’s limping as she goes from one person to another, checking their status and changing the bandages when needed.

When she turns and sees Ingrid and Sylvain she initially frowns, but in the end she just sighs.

\- I knew you’d come -.

\- Where is he? -, Sylvain asks. He’ll deal with Manuela’s lecture later. He needs to see him now.

\- There -, Manuela says, and she points to a solitary bed in the corner. He can barely see Felix under the covers, but even just a glimpse of hair in enough for him to recognize his childhood friend.

He can’t help but to extend his hands towards him when Ingrid manages to drag him there, brushing a finger against Felix’s pale cheek; he’s beginning to feel dizzy, and maybe she was right about his condition: he shouldn’t have gotten there – it took too much effort.

And yet there’s relief in the way he can clearly see Felix’s chest moving as he breathes in and breathes out. It’s almost like he’s just sleeping.

He thanks Ingrid when she brings him a chair he can sit on.

This feels weird. Usually their positions would be reversed, with Sylvain on the infirmary bed and Felix by his side, chewing him up because he’s always so reckless and puts himself in danger, because admitting that you’re worried about someone is a lot harder than it would seem at first, Sylvain knows that better than anyone.

What an asshole he is, commiserating himself when Felix is like this.

\- Has he ever waken up? -.

\- Yes -, Ingrid answers, since Manuela is too busy to be concerned about him, - Occasionally -.

So he just goes in and out, but at least he’s alive. With time, he’ll get better.

Then why does Sylvain still feel guilty?

He slides his hand along Felix’s, holding it gently.

\- I’m sorry -, he mutters, as if Felix could hear it.

It’s such a miracle that he survived, which reminds him.

\- Ingrid, where’s Mercedes? -.

\- Oh, she’s resting -, Ingrid replies, - She worked a lot these last few days -.

Sylvain can only imagine how tiring this all must’ve been for her. He reminds himself to go thank her for the miracle she managed to pull; without her, things wouldn’t be as happy as they are now.

Sylvain turns towards Ingrid. She looks tired.

\- You should go rest too -, he incites her. She deserves it.

\- I’m fine -.

Stubborn as ever.

\- _You’re_ _not_ -, Sylvain remarks, - You look like shi… Ouch! -.

\- Just because you just woke up doesn’t mean I won’t hit you! -, Ingrid exclaims as Sylvain massages his neck, right after being shushed by Manuela.

\- Besides -, she continues, this time whispering, - Someone needs to look after you -.

And once again, guilt strikes Sylvain. Ingrid has always been like this: she always felt like she had to look out for them, but what's the point if she suffers as well?

He tries to smile then, trying to appear reassuring.

\- Ingrid, I'm already in the infirmary -, he says, gesturing around himself, - If anything was to happen, I'd be taken care of immediately -.

Ingrid seems still unconvinced, but Sylvain notices the hesitation in her eyes; she’s thinking about it.

\- Please, Ingrid. Take care of yourself -.

That seems to do it, as Ingrid sighs.

\- Alright -, then her gaze shoots up towards him, - If something happens, however, I'll make you regret it -.

And with that she's gone, leaving Sylvain alone with Felix.

Now that nobody is paying attention to him, he can finally drop his facade and let the worry that is gnawing his insides show on his face.

\- Damn it, Felix -, he mutters, fingers ghosting against his cheek.

He should be the one unconscious on the bed, with Felix cursing and fussing over him.

This shouldn't have happened, and yet...

\- I'm sorry -.

It's barely a murmur, but it's there.

\- It should've been me -.

Sylvain doesn't recall when he fell asleep, but when he wakes up he feels cranky at best. Sleeping on a chair definitely wasn't that smart of an idea, but he doesn't regret it - his body will later, but for now he doesn't think about it.

He ignores how much his neck is protesting as he turns towards Felix.

Still nothing.

He pets his hair with a tenderness that he only dreamt about until now.

This isn't how he imagined it would go: he always imaged them in bed, lying together even after sunrise, enjoying each other’s presence in the quiet of the early morning. He'd feel the silk of Felix's hair and he'd smile; maybe he'd say something stupid and the other would laugh, and Sylvain feels in love more than he was before even just imagining it.

Of course it's wrong fantasizing about a friend like this, but by now Sylvain’s used to this particular feeling of guilt. It's not like everyone else will ever know that, so who cares.

He loses track of the time as he stays in the infirmary. If it wasn’t for Ingrid who brings him food and checks on him he would've been lost.

He'll really have to get her something nice to repay her. He truly doesn't deserve her.

Felix is still there, though for a moment - a slight second - he moves.

It’s barely perceptible, but Sylvain's sure he saw him furrow his brow for a moment.

He's still sure even as Felix doesn't give any other sign of finally being awake. He knows what he saw, and no matter how much Ingrid tells him it's just wishful thinking, he refuses to believe it.

Felix will wake up soon.

It actually takes a couple of days before Felix wakes up fully.

Sylvain hasn’t moved from his spot, and sometimes he’s been joined by the others, at least the people who weren’t hurt themselves.

He’s even spotted His Highness peering from a corner from time to time, looking at Felix with that gaze that has now become so hard to decipher, but he never steps forward; coward, he wants to tell him, but maybe it’s for the best: if Felix wakes up with him by his side, he might get into a sourer mood than the one he’ll already be in.

It’s a cough what gets his attention.

He immediately turns to Felix, worried that he may start spouting out blood, but he’s relieved when he sees the other cover his own mouth; _he’s moving_.

\- Easy there -, he mutters, helping him when he tries to raise his back. How does he help? By gently keeping him down of course.

It would do no good if he gets dizzy because of a sudden movement.

Sylvain’s vision is slightly blurry, but he forces back the tears that menace to pour down his eyes at any instant. No, he won’t cry in front of everyone, not matter how relieved he feels.

And yet he can’t help but to squeeze Felix in his arms, even despite the other’s weak protests – what is he going to do? Shove him away?

\- I’m so glad… -.

In end, he does cry a little, but luckily he’s covered his face by burying it on Felix’s shoulder. He realizes he’s also shaking, but he can’t do anything to stop his dumb body from doing so.

\- Sorry. I’m so sorry -.

He begins to apologize before he can stop himself, even if he’s well aware that, the moment Felix regains his composure, he will berate him for this.

“It wasn’t your fault, you dumb idiot. I got hit, I take the blame”. He can already hear his voice, and he smiles at the thought.

He’s certainly surprised when he feels Felix’s shaky arms around him. Is this supposed to be a hug?

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Felix is well and that he woke up; everything else is secondary at this point.

\- Sylvain… -.

Felix’s voice is so weak, weaker than Sylvain has ever heard, and it breaks his heart, but he’s talking, so that already means something, yes?

He moves then, still close to Felix – he won’t let go of him this time – as he simply lowers his forehead to the other’s until they’re touching. Part of him is screaming to pull away, that he shouldn’t be doing this, that it will make things worse, but Sylvain just smiles and ignores any negative feeling his mind is concocting.

\- I’m here, Felix. I’m here -.

\- _I heard you_ -.

\- What do you mean? -, Sylvain asks, before realizing that…

No, he can’t be talking about what he said when he was down. It can’t be! If he had passed out, how was he supposed to hear?

He must be delirious, and soon he’ll forget about this in the first place. Sylvain will have to call Manuela to check on Felix and he’ll forget it too, and then they’ll keep on with their lives as if nothing had happened.

Still, now that this doubt has found place in Sylvain’s head, it’s hard to ignore it.

He looks at Felix and he looks so… calm, serene. Uh, _weird_.

They way he imagined it, Felix would be furious if he ever found out about this whole ordeal, but instead he looks almost happy.

Nah, it must be something else. There’s no way he’d be smiling for that.

He calls for Manuela.

\- Felix’s awake! -.

It’s better if he gets checked on first, then they’ll talk about… whatever it is that they have to talk about.

He lets himself fall back on his chair, tuning out the sounds of the infirmary, lost in his own thoughts.

He can’t deny being afraid of what’s going to come, but he saw how Felix smiled, he heard the way he said “I heard you”.

Maybe, maybe there’s hope after all.


End file.
